Transient
by Chiisarin
Summary: Rain and bad music have a way of bringing people together.  An almost AxelYuffie story.


She found him in the crystal depths, hands awkwardly plucking at the strings.

_Twarrrayng. Twarraaaayyn. Twa-twaarraayng. _

Well. Not only was this _stranger_ taking her special angry moody emo corner, he was playing music. Very sucky music. Music that killed the ears, blood bursting out in fireworks, the whole package.

Curses, she was_ freaking mad enough_. She did _not _need some gloomy bad terrible evil music at the moment, thank you.

And so, before she knows it, the words are out.

"Augh…please, _shut up_."

She hadn't realized that she had talked, but when the music stops, realization hits too soon.

The guilt is gnawing at her, at her stomach, at her hands, at her face and she's looking down...

Regret.

_She always spoke too soon._

"I'm—!"

But before she can say anything, the word has died in her throat, and she's mumbling, whispering: "…Sorry."

He probably didn't hear her. No, he probably didn't. But she doesn't want to say it again, because…Maybe he did hear her and just wasn't responding? Maybe? What?

She's not too sure about herself anymore.

…She should say something. Act happy, cheerful, show that she wasn't serious, make friends, make it all okay, yes, that's what she should do…

(_He's dripping wet, well actually, they're both dripping wet but Yuffie always hated the rain and since she ignores the things she hate, she doesn't notice the rain. Nope. Not at all. It's not cold at all, she's not shivering because she forgot to bring an umbrella, and she certainly is not going to admit defeat he looks sad doesn't he. Or is he angry? Please don't be angry, having Leon lecture her was enough—okay, just don't think don't think and you won't remember. Nope. Not at all. And she is totally not wet._)

"So…is that a guitar?" She tries weakly. She wonders why she's talking to this stranger, she wonders why she's trying to be nice, trying … trying to prove herself. Why? _She's good enough right? No, don't get overconfident, don't get cocky, it'll only be your downfall, just don't think…_

"Sitar," Is the bland, emotionless response.

Yuffie feels herself wince, though she's not sure why. His voice seems so…she doesn't know what. She's not good with words.

"Oh." Dot dot dot. "What's the difference?"

Silence.

"I don't know."

Unnerving. His voice is unnerving. That's it. And…? (_What does that mean?_)

Perhaps a different topic.

(_She's still trying? Why?_)

"So…Why are you playing out in the rain?"

"Why are you asking me annoying questions?"

His answer is so immediate that she feels herself jumping, inching back, and he's…he's looking at her? No, more like glaring.

"Well, I'm _sorry_ for wondering." Yuffie spits back, oddly defensive. "You've got to admit the dying cow noises you made sounded like some kind of…funeral death march!"

_His eyes are green. Green like Aerith but not really. Green like…like…_

She's officially random. Random and moody. Oh goody.

The stranger narrows his eyes, and suddenly Yuffie realizes that he's dripping wet, glaring at her, and that he is _hot_.

"Well I am _mourning_. Now, since I've stopped my _dying cow _music as you so kindly asked, won't you please leave me the hell alone?"

Oooh, rejection. Damn, this person doesn't like her…Well, she's not going to lose! Hell no, the Great Ninja Yuffie never loses!

"No. I'm not going to leave you alone." And with that, she plops down stubbornly next to him _and the paaain the paaain, her butt is on ice and it's coooold_ and scoots over next to him. "I'm going to sit next to you and follow you until…until you tell me your name!"

Wait, did he say he was mourning? As in mourning for dead and being sad and not happy and … Wow. Smooth move, Yuffie. Smooth move.

…And she's sitting next to a stranger. Right, because Yuffie makes it a habit to talk to random strangers, and it is her total hobby to stalk them. Totally. _Something seems really wrong with this picture. _

"…Annoying," She can hear the guy mutter under his breath. She stiffens, but doesn't react. Because Yuffie is awesome, and she shall be the bigger person, and she will _win_.

_(Somehow, it turned into a game.)_

"Well, my name's Yuffie," She loudly says and holds her hand out to him. He stares at it for a moment _take it and shake it because that's what a good doggie does_ and looks away. "Fine then. Be all anti-social and emo."

Silence. It's very cold, wait _no it's not_. Nope.

Silence.

She wonders how long she'll stay here.

How much has passed so far?

Seconds.

Three.

Four.

Five—Seven. Whatever.

"So you say your name's Ashleigh? Or was it Glady—Hey!"

Before she can stop talking (because it takes Yuffie a while before she can stop talking), he's already standing up and striding away quickly. She starts to stand up and—owowowowow, numb legs, numb legs, cannot move, will not move, nope.

Her eyes quickly dart around, looking for a piece of rock to hit his annoyingly big head (all guys have big heads. And egos.), her eyes land on something else.

"You forgot your sitar!" She yelled. And this is called desperate Yuffie.

…And he stops. Wow. Desperate Yuffie be awesome, yo.

"Keep it. It's not mine."

…Bad desperate Yuffie! Bad girl.

And just when she thinks he's going to walk off (_into the distant orange horizon riding a beautiful white horse with wings_), he continues to talks, his words so soft, so silent, so quiet…that she almost didn't hear them at all.

Like they didn't even exist.

"…_His _name was Demyx."

But she's not really listening as she pushes herself up.

AHA! FREEDOM! No more be legs numb! Ahahahaha…ha….he's gone, she realizes as she runs into the clearing.

It's empty.

No one's there...?

* * *

AN: For Pen Against Sword's sorta prompt. 


End file.
